The Hurt of a Women
It's funny how he thought it was better this way; yet never understood how it was actually "better". Was it easier to live a life of oblivion? Pretending things were better, when they were actually at a standstill. Life was good but it wasn't great, people were happy, but they weren't her...
Did you see the demons, the ones that met you at the door? They stood right beside him; smiling at you right as you smiled at the future. That night you killed her; death by happiness. She ignored your demons because you'd said you'd ignore hers, but you lied; because she had none.
I heard you cry; and didn't do anything about it. I cried and let my tears water you. You came into a season of drought and we all thought you toughened up. So I watered you with my tears again, thinking you could handle them; You always accepted my tears.
Imagine constantly putting yourself down as an excuse for your behavior. How could you disappoint when you came with warnings. Accountability was never in your vocabulary and never did you want it to be. You said you'll be better one day, but inside you knew one day never comes. How can I keep the threads of my innocence intact around you. I weaved myself so tight so that you couldn't seep through. Your lies became like dye to the fabric of my being. Staining my soul, but never enough to turn me red. I ought to wash up now, cleanse myself of your existence. Bleach what little I have left of me and weave it into newness. A stronger thread; a stronger women.
Eventually you'll forget the lies they told you, and the truth they kept from you. You never wanted to remember anyways. But you'll never forget them, you couldn't. The deepest part of their soul intertwined with yours like vines in a garden. You never fed them yet they grew; tangling you in your own thoughts. You no longer felt your own.
You're like a star I could never reach, yet always within sight. I'm not sure what's worse, to not get what you want or to be teased with love dangling off your lips. You'd flow towards me like waves along the shore; back and forth you'd come and go. You left me to decide for you, what your life would become. You were life and death and hatred and love, yet you are not a star, nor are you a wave; you are a meer boy.
Losing you was such a relief, because the fear of losing you which constantly consumed me left alongside you. You're still there in the small of my mind, your permanent spot internally stored with your past, alongside mine. You're now less then one dimensional. You're a mere recollection, a circuit process, a memory.
Who are we to those that know nothing of us.. How can we judge someone for looking at us and seeing red. They see what they want; anything to feel better about their own conditions; just coming, and taking, and leaving as they please. They stay crippled by their perception of what was and is. Unable to see past themselves and the issues they settle for. At the end of the day, we are still women. Hard, soft, bittersweet women. Infinite beings in the lives of those we encounter. duly unnoticed, yet forces, nonetheless.
We ask for love from those who have no thought to give it, keep it from those who want it. And hide it from those we can't bare to say it to. Love is an odd thing that seeps into our mind any moment it sees fit, reminding us of the rejection we've experienced and the people we never accepted. A constant reminder of the singularity of you, unfit, too real, not enough or whatever the excuse may be. Love is still there, to give, and receive, and evolve, just like us.
Ninah Caquias is a 23-year-old creative powerhouse with a huge passion for fashion, social media, and women empowerment. Writing has been something she did in her free time gaining perspective through personal experience and that of those surrounding her. It is important to her to maintain tranperancy through everything she does, as a means to help women with the same vision as her.